


floating over stone

by niemi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Established Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Fluff, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:02:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28513110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niemi/pseuds/niemi
Summary: Wrapped in one another's arms is all they'll ever need, two soulmates in love - curled up in their own special place.All Harry has to do is reassure Draco that he isn't going anywhere.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 161





	floating over stone

**Author's Note:**

> The title is influenced by a lyric in 17 (by Pink Sweat$) - highly recommend!
> 
> Very light sexual content implied.

It was nothing more than an alcove in a dingy corridor of many. Carved out between three slabs of stone. There was a window high above, and a ceiling far out of reach, three walls and a heightened horizontal slab to sit upon. All of it was stone, the very essence of the Hogwarts architecture. That was this little escape in its entirety.

But it encompassed everything that magic meant to Harry. It contained all his childhood excitement and his wonder, his fears and his boundaries. Every whispered confession and faint-hearted murmur. He could wrap a lifetime of emotion into a square metre of space.

Better yet, the space wasn’t solely his – it was _shared_. In the same sense that his heart no longer belonged to only himself; it had slipped away as easily as a step in the wrong direction. Although, this had decidedly been anything but. In this case, a daring, inevitable gravitational pull had dragged him to a new fate, perhaps the same fate it always had been.

Draco.

He was striding down the long, dusty corridor, a picture of pure elegance and grace. And as he caught Harry peeking from their alcove, he smiled. An automatic smile, a small lift of his lips that grew into a toothy grin, out of his control. The kind of smile that made his face lose the years of trauma, the kind that felt like home. It _was_ home, as much as the long arms that wrapped around Harry when Draco reached him.

“Hey, handsome,” Harry whispered against Draco’s neck, his hands tracing the curves of the body that had been out of his reach for far too long. God forbid they were ever separated for longer than a mere five hours again.

“Hi, Potter,” Draco kissed Harry’s skin, the space between the nook of his neck and the protruding bone of his left shoulder, ever so delicately. “You’re early for once.”

A subtle shrug against Draco’s body, the shifting of limbs until Draco was tucked against his side and Harry could look up at him with a crinkle in his eyes and a wide smile.

“Ron was driving me up the walls with his endless Chudley Cannons talk.” He said, dragging Draco down with him into the alcove.

Some time ago, once this had become _their_ place, he’d conjured some cushions and spread them across the stone. Against all odds, they hadn’t yet been stolen nor vandalised by any mischievous students – a miraculous feat, in fact. (Fred and George would be disappointed in their legacy)

Prior to Harry’s moment of ingenuity, they’d never had much trouble spending hours upon hours there, but now, Harry didn’t have to mutter little white lies of comfort while the cold stone wore down his skin. _Now_ , he had Draco’s legs intertwined with his own, their feet stretched out to the other side of the alcove, his back pressed to Draco’s chest, soft cushioning beneath their bodies.

The sunlight being fed through the tiny window up above illuminated Draco’s pale skin, offering glimmers of canary yellow against white: short-lived flickers of colour that danced up Draco’s body before vanishing into the grey abyss of stone.

Harry, his head tilted back to rest against Draco’s collarbone, was alternating between watching Draco’s face, his sharp jawline and high cheekbones and pouted lips and shining eyes, to examining Draco’s body, with all its curves and skinny ankles and gentle creases. Because in moments like these, it was all Harry’s brain could do not to chant a lovesick chorus of _Draco Draco Draco_ , occasionally followed with a harmonious encore of _mine mine mine._

It was hardly a one-sided infatuation.

Draco’s hands were roaming up and down the highs and lows of Harry’s body. His fingers were dancing across the thick fabric of Harry’s sweater, skimming the belt hooks of his faded jeans, yearning to reach even the tips of his toes (only held back by Harry himself blocking the way). Kisses were being pressed into the mess of curls on top of Harry’s head, sweet nothings murmured into his ears. Each time Draco’s hands strayed, be it to Harry’s jaw or his lips after stealing a gentle kiss, they returned loyally to the snug sweater.

Draco had never quite approved of the pattern, but he’d uttered far too many compliments to the way it clung to Harry’s waist and hugged his chest, that Harry had awarded it as his favourite date outfit – the second-best being no clothes at all.

It wasn’t even a Weasley-made jumper. No - Harry had raided Sirius’ closet in 12 Grimmauld Place a while after the trials, once he’d gathered enough courage to step through that arching doorway once more. Amongst the few items of clothing that remained from Sirius’ adolescence and his short-lived bout of freedom, Harry found various sweaters that resembled Lupin’s taste more than his godfather’s. Either way, they’d become natural additions to Harry’s closet and hadn’t moved since.

“Show me it again,” Draco demanded quietly, lacking the malice Harry had once associated with this face, as his fingers found Harry’s wrists. With reluctance and the same hushed voice, Draco tagged on a simple “please”.

Ever obedient to Draco’s wishes nowadays, Harry tugged the sleeve of his sweater until it coiled in rolls around his upper arm, leaving his lower arm on show.

Perhaps it was symbolic, the exact positioning of his soul mark. His left arm was where the black ink was engraved into Harry’s core, slap bang in the centre of his forearm - mirroring the unnatural mark that was carved into Draco’s own left arm, the one they tended not to talk about.

Draco stared at it. His slender fingers trailing down Harry’s arm to delicately trace its outline, the same look of disbelief crossing his expression. Always the same incredulity. Draco leaned down to press his lips to the tattoo, soft lips grazing the skin with a tremble.

Harry’s entire body shivered beneath the contact, inches away from falling apart in Draco’s arms from something as seemingly innocent as lips against skin. _Draco_ ’s lips against his skin. What a frightfully delirious situation. Not that Harry wasn’t used to it by now; Draco could easily trade the hours spent reducing Harry to a whimpering mess, with a simple kiss to his soul mark.

Instead of giving into Draco’s touch in an exposed corridor, Harry turned in his hold. His fingers slipped under Draco’s shirt easily, finding the matching tattoo embedded in Draco’s hip and leaning down to press a long kiss to it. If only to return the favour. If only to watch the way Draco arched towards him, his entire body stretching as his head tipped towards the ceiling with a blissfully sinful moan.

“They’re not going to disappear, Draco,” Harry said into his neck, engulfing his boyfriend in a hug and a series of chaste kisses to the rest of his exposed skin. “You’re _fated_ to be mine, and I, yours. Suck it up.”

“I don’t quite believe that yet,” Draco whispered back, his touch slipping beneath Harry’s jumper in sought of hot skin. He smiled against Harry’s lips, “I’m going to lock you into a miserable marriage before they do.”

“At least the sex will be brilliant,” Harry grinned.

It turned to chuckling as a pair of second-years scurried past clutching textbooks and sharing high-pitched giggles. Harry Potter and his ex-Death Eater boyfriend was hardly new gossip but the mention of sex might be enough to put them over the edge. Rita Skeeter’s unpaid intern would be banging at his dorm door before he knew it.

“Is that all I am to the great Harry Potter?” Draco mused through his smile, spinning Harry back around in his arms so they were resting chest to back once more. “A reliable, first-class booty call?”

“Mhm,” Harry replied, snuggling against Draco, settling between his legs. He yawned. “Something along those lines, I’m sure the Hogwarts rumour mill can answer that question for you.”

“Harry Potter's official booty call, hm?” Draco mulled it over, mostly ignoring Harry’s comment. “I suppose that's a better title than half the bullshit everybody else claims.”

Another heavy yawn. “Amaz—ing, now let me sleep.”

Strong arms – toned from a long summer of working out – tugged him closer, the adjoined hands glided around his chest to rest at Harry’s waist. And a kiss to his temple, before Draco’s head rolled back against the wall.

If possible, Harry pressed even closer.

He pressed against Draco until he could practically feel the soul mark against his body, and he guided one of Draco’s lazy hands to his own forearm, where sure enough his skin was ignited by a grazing touch.

It was a reminder in its purest form.

They were connected, by souls, by love. By choice.

So, Harry wasted the afternoon away in Draco’s arms, the hours ticking past in their own little space. And he loved every inch of Draco against him, and every second.

the end. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> Another quick fluffy piece, inspired partially by [this](https://blewsee.tumblr.com/post/636799342912634880/8th-year-hogwarts-sorry-for-the-inactivity) tumblr artwork.  
> I'm back to work on Monday so I won't have much time to read and write :(  
> But given my recent track record of whipping out one-shots in a couple of hours, there's still hope. 
> 
> Let me know what you think :) 
> 
> Stay safe & Happy New Year!  
> Niemi <3


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